The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [29]
The doctor’s long face brightened.
“Barley cereal, honey, malt, and a few other of nature’s gifts to man. It’s my own invention. Weldon is good enough to have it prepared for me when I come. Really, Thomas, you ought to try it. It would do wonders for your—”
“No, thanks,” Thomas said. He didn’t want to hear what organs the revolting mess would do wonders for, much less eat it.
The rector chuckled.
“It’s better than malmsey wine—eh, brother Clarence?”
Thomas acknowledged the witticism with a sour smile. He was getting tired of references to the famous butt of malmsey.
He retreated to the table and sat down beside Jacqueline, who turned emerald-green eyes upon him.
“Hail, brother George. I may call you brother, I hope? As the mother of Richard’s bastard children—”
“Cut it out,” growled Thomas.
“Certainly not. I have decided to fling myself wholeheartedly into the spirit of the thing. Have I told you my name is Katherine? Nobody seems to know who Richard’s mistresses were; I have formed a theory that one of them was Hastings’ wife Katherine. That would explain why Richard was so hasty—” a flicker of long dark lashes emphasized the pun, and Thomas made a wordless grimace of disgust—“so hasty in executing Hastings. We know that Richard’s illegitimate daughter was named Katherine; what would be more natural than for her to be named after her mother? Richard dedicated a chapel to Saint Katherine—”
She broke off as Kent came to join them. In the bright light of day the general’s face looked like that of a well-preserved mummy, but his eyes were snapping with energy and appreciation as he surveyed Jacqueline’s cool elegance. He put his plate down, and Jacqueline eyed it with consternation. Two white-eyed fish looked back at her.
“Very interesting idea,” Kent said, beginning to debone the nasty-looking specimens. “Don’t believe I have ever heard it before. Would you give us a lecture, Jacqueline?”
“I was just joking,” Jacqueline said meekly. She seemed subdued by the fishy stare.
“Mustn’t joke about serious matters.” Kent chuckled. “Do you know, the more I think about it, the more it attracts me. Lady Hastings as Richard’s mistress…”
“Now wait a minute,” Thomas said. “That’s a ridiculous idea. She was too old in the first place, and in the second place—”
Kent paid no attention. Turning to the rector, who had taken the chair beside him, he began to recapitulate Jacqueline’s theory. Rawdon, eating with slow, well-chewed bites, also listened attentively. Jacqueline caught Thomas’s eye and lifted her own eyes in pious resignation.
“Fascinating,” the rector said. “Indeed, Jacqueline, you must write an article for our little journal. Or—no! May I call you Katherine?”
“Oh, do,” said Jacqueline wildly. “Do.”
“Where are the others?” inquired Thomas, in an attempt to change the subject before Jacqueline waxed violent and profane.
“Let me see.” Ellis considered the question, as if it were an exercise in historical research, which it did rather resemble. “Our good host and his lady have come and gone, as has my excellent spouse. Young Edward—your son, my dear doctor—has also breakfasted, as has the other young Edward, my son and heir. I do not know about the others.”
It took Thomas a few moments to sort out the aliases.
“Sir Richard, the two older ladies, Frank, and Percy,” he translated, for the benefit of Jacqueline, whose eyes were glazed. “I’ll bet Percy was the first to come and the last to leave.”
“No doubt.” The idea seemed to distress the doctor. He put his fork down and considered his half-empty plate doubtfully. “The boy has an excellent appetite….”
“The boy is a menace,” Thomas said. “He won’t live to grow up.”
“Being overweight is unhealthy,” the rector agreed innocently.
“I didn’t mean that. I mean someone will kill him before he grows up. It might be me. Rawdon—what’s the matter?”
The doctor was bent over his plate, his hands covering his mouth. Suddenly he leaped up, overturning his chair. Thomas